The Height of The Storm
by Katie Havok
Summary: Newt is sprawled on the iron next to her, sweat darkening the wrists and collar of his shirt. He's long since given up on any semblance of propriety in favor of comfort, and as the clouds swell and darken overhead, a cool breeze stirs up and the first drops of rain fall, opaquing his shirt. He tilts his head back and just breathes.


Warning: _**smut!**_ This was originally posted on Ao3 on January 16th, 2017 and is being published here for the sake of my own ego.

* * *

The first time they kiss, it is June and explosively hot.

Newt stands before her awkwardly, sweating beneath the ridiculous flop of his hair and watching the space between her jaw and shoulder. He's tenser than normal—this is is his fourth visit and departure, and he's made it perfectly clear where his heart lies, by dint of his constant returns. He hasn't made any physical moves toward her though, leaving that step decidedly up to her to make.

 _Waiting for me_ , Tina thinks and smothers a pang.

The last-call horn sounds, and he stoops to pick up his case. "I will be back," he says, and she knows he means it because he doesn't lie. Not to her, not anymore. "I will write when I reach Liverpool, if I may," and she knows _he_ knows it's allowed, but this is their ritual and they follow it because it is comfortable.

Tina doesn't think about her next move—she thinks only of the interminable time between now and the fabled _when_ of his return. She thinks of seeing him off again and returning to her empty bed again and the regret that goes with not touching him _again_ , and she doesn't think.

Instead, she reaches between them to cup his cheeks, tilting her head and leaning to meet him in the middle.

The angle is bad and their timing is off. His lips are slightly chapped, hers are dry. She catches him off-guard so he breathes a two-part gasp against her lips, and she finds his mouth is more humid than the air around them. She winces internally, ready to pull away and rectify her mistake.

Until he shifts.

Suddenly, there's a solid line of _man_ against her, from mouth to hip, and Tina inhales sharply. He takes advantage, squaring his lips against her and drawing her into the boldest, firmest kiss she's ever experienced. He pulls away, placing a series of tiny, close-mouthed kisses on her jaw, her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth.

Newt drops his gaze and snorts a laugh at the pier. "I'll miss you, too" he quips, before gathering himself, sharing one last tender look, and hurrying away.

She watches him go—awed, bemused, and wondering how it was that everyone else seemed to get it so _right_ on the first try, but unwilling to change what's just transpired between them.

* * *

The windows are dark, and the candles have burned low. It's late enough to be considered early. Neither of them particularly care.

Queenie feeds them both and then takes her leave—admonishing them to behave with a giggle that clearly said she didn't believe they _would_ , and they hadn't.

Newt had set the needle to vinyl and pulled her into a dance. He holds her close as they rock and spin, sometimes talking, occasionally laughing, often comfortably silent. It is Tina who raises her head to press her mouth to his; it's Newt who takes sets them on the next path, tentatively brushing his knuckles over her arms, down her back and lower still, before coming to rest on her hip.

She smiles into his mouth before placing her hands on his stomach. She smooths over the plane of his chest, up the column of his neck, and she feels him tense. She loses her hands in his hair, scratching at his scalp until he relaxes against her with something that sounds suspiciously like a purr.

Tina tangles her fingers in his hair until he's lolling against her before dragging her hands down his sides. She presses against his ribs, then freezes when he _yelps_ and leaps away from her. Stunned, Tina watches through wide eyes as roses bloom on Newt's cheeks, eyes fixed to the floor. "Sorry," he mumbles while she stews. "'m quite ticklish." There's no response, so eventually, Newt chances looking up—just in time to see Tina advancing on him with an unholy smile, fingers curling at her sides.

He isn't too proud to flee, and she gives chase and catches him. Once she has control, she tickles his ribs and sides until he is red-faced and writhing on the floor, laughter robbing him of voice. Tina eventually relents so he can draw a shaky breath, which Newt uses to turn the tables and tackle her to the couch. He is just as vicious, and if his hands brush the sides of breast accidentally, they are both too euphoric to notice.

They wind up entangled on the cushions, rumpled and breathless and happy in a way they so rarely are, these days. The arm of the couch digs into Tina's back and her legs are mostly pinned under a boneless Magizoologist, but it's worth it to feel his head cradled in her lap, to see the tension leaving his frame as she smooths down his hair. Newt uses his vantage to run his palms over the large muscle in her thighs, down her legs and kneading before moving back up, soothing and inflaming in turns.

"This is nice," he murmurs sleepily, and she has to agree.

They fall asleep and wake together, rumpled, sore, but with a new warmth between them.

* * *

The day comes when he arrives to stay.

Tina gives up her room in the boarding house—Queenie having long since moved to Jacob's—and they rent a three-room apartment above Kowalski's bakery. It's small but serviceable for two people who are together in all but name, and it's cheap—practically free.

Plus, it always smells divine.

They fall into an easy routine: they rise together, work at their individual jobs and pursuits, and return in the evenings. Newt proves himself to be the superior cook so she cleans up, and then they enjoy quiet evenings. Sometimes, it's a tumbler of whiskey and a book before the fire. Other times, he works on his sketches while she organizes her paperwork. On rare evenings, when they are both in the right mood, he spins her around the apartment until they are sweaty and breathless and delighted.

One such night, he twirls her around until she's giddy, then captures her mouth in a kiss that does nothing to help the oxygen deprivation. Breathless, she maneuvers them toward their small couch, tugging him with her when her knees connect and topple them over.

They land with a breathless _oof_ , and Newt takes the opportunity to wriggle out of his waistcoat and loosen his tie. Tina watches through eager eyes as he deliberately brings his hands to the buttons of her blouse, opening them one by one. He pauses before loosening the last one, eyes questioning before she bites her lip and nods. The last defense between them falls with a searing kiss.

Newt helps ease her out of her shirt, only to discover that she's chosen not to wear a corselet or camisole beneath. It's a calculated risk, opening herself to him. They've touched, always avoiding the most intimate of places, and tasted, always above the waist, but they've never bared themselves fully.

His eyes are impossibly gentle as they take her in. Tina isn't sure what to expect, but he sighs happily and shrugs out of his own shirt. Transfixed, she eyes him with reverence. She's _felt_ the irregularities on his back and shoulders, but this is her first time truly getting a chance to witness them.

" _Newt_."

He shifts until he's hovering over her, hips carefully angled away, forearms taking the bulk of his weight. He leans down and peppers her neck with kisses, dodging her not-quite-question and effectively distracting her. His mouth finds the sensitive spot on her neck and suckles; he trails his tongue over the column of her throat to taste the small sounds she makes, before ducking to sample her sternum.

Firm hands cup her breasts before he moves his mouth to the underside of one, sucking and nipping gently. He's supremely confident but gentle as hands and mouth work her breasts, her stomach, the skin on her sides. Lazy heat pools in her lower belly, and she finds her hips moving of their own volition in slow undulations. He doesn't seem to mind, murmuring praise into her skin at every turn.

Newt finally catches a nipple with his mouth and Tina moans, low and steady. He switches sides and she bucks beneath him; he growls as a responding jolt moves through his hips. It proves how far gone they are when she moves to rub herself against the meat of his thigh, desperate for friction, and he cups his hand against her instead. He jolts against when she rolls her hips and watches through shiny eyes as she moves to please herself. She's still in her trousers and the increased friction brings her to completion sooner than she thought possible, clutching him as they whine together.

She buckles under him, wrung-out and sated, and he lays his head on her chest to listen to her pounding heart. When she comes back to herself, she finds him watching her smugly, entirely too proud of the state he's put her in. She can also see a suspicious wet spot on the front of _his_ trousers, and his blushing countenance tells her it wasn't a planned contribution. Helpless to stop it, Tina laughs and smooths his hair down, relieved when he chuckles unselfconsciously into her skin. She very carefully does not look while she passes her blouse over, so he may clean himself and regain some dignity.

Eventually, Newt helps her up and sends her off to her bed with a polite kiss on the cheek.

* * *

It's been a tense few weeks.

Tina's up against grueling deadlines at work, and the inevitable uptick in Dark activity to correspond with Grindelwald's activities in Europe. Newt's working furiously on the fourth edition of his book, sending daily updates and revisions to his publishers in America, Britain and the Orient. Together and separate, they've been tense and irritable, running on adrenaline and nerves, and their tentative romance has suffered for it.

That is, until Newt wraps himself around her one night and _kisses_ her, open-mouthed and heated. She melts into him and allows him to guide her to their couch, which has borne silent witness to their explorations. They shed their clothing along the way, leaving a scattered trail behind them when he presses her into the cushions—gloriously naked and willing.

He dispatches with the usual pleasantries to get right down to business, but she turns the tables when she takes him in hand, finding him already hard and willing. Tina smiles at him, all teeth when she wraps firm fingers around him and strokes. She does it again just to watch his eyes grow hazy, his head fall back. She firms her grip and rotates her wrist as she moves up and down his shaft, and is gratified to hear his breath stutter in his throat.

Tina maintains a steady pace until he regroups and leans forward to run his tongue over her skin. He samples her neck and chest, suckles her nipples to hardness and swirls his tongue over her creamy stomach. His breathing roughens when he stops between her legs and groans happily when an exploratory brush finds her slick and ready. He slots two fingers into her, and Tina can't decide whether to watch where her hand works him, or where his fingers work _her_. He saves her the trouble of figuring it out when he bucks his hips and angles them away, out of her reach.

Newt bestows upon her a cheeky smile when she glares at him, but irritation is quickly replaced with pleasure when he crooks his fingers inside her. He repeats the gesture and Tina closes her eyes, lost in the sheer pleasure of his hands on and in her—until he stops, and she is bereft. Tina growls her frustration, and he gives a huff of laughter. Opening her eyes, her breath catches when he very deliberately removes his fingers from her and pulls them into his mouth, never breaking her gaze as he thoroughly sucks them clean.

Newt gives voice to another warm chuckle when she gapes at him. He nips her thigh before asking, very deliberately: "Can I taste you, Tina?" He moves up her body to flick a serpentine tongue over her left nipple, effectively distracting her from any discomfort. She can feel him smile against her skin when she gasps assent, and the tickle of his ridiculous hair over her skin as he moves down her body, teeth dragging along the way.

He settles between her thighs and she can feel his warm breath gusting over the most intimate part of her. Tina has allowed him to put his hands here, and she's allowed him to see her without clothing—but he's never been _this close_ , and she finds herself suddenly tense and self-conscious. She freezes, putting a hand on his forehead, and his eyes flash to her. Newt senses the run of her thoughts, and he soothes her by stroking her leg. He flits his hands over her stomach and hips, then kisses the crease where her legs meet her groin.

"I've never done this," she blurts, and now it's his turn to freeze. He lifts his head and she nods a little frantically. "This is actually the furthest I've gone, I—I haven't gone _past_ this point. At all. _Ever_."

His eyes widen and his eyebrows lift before he breaks into an amazingly sunny smile. He kisses her hip and does it again before saying, " _Thank you_ , Tina. This is a gift, truly." Newt wriggles up her body to run soothing palms over her tense shoulders and back until she calms enough to allow him to pool at her feet without a noticeable change in breathing. When he senses no additional tension, he smiles at her and, with her permissive nod, boldly covers her mound.

Tina watches Newt's face as he takes her in, running a finger between her glistening folds before gently spreading her to expose her hidden gash. He lets out a sharp breath and presses his face into her leg before dipping a finger in, drawing it through the moisture pooled there. He swirls around the bud nestled at the apex of her slit with another low sound. His eyes flick to hers and hold them when his head dips and he follows the path of his finger with his tongue.

Tina has had his fingers on and in her. She's felt herself clamp around him when he brings her to orgasm, and she's seen the joyous expression on his face every time he causes her to achieve that state. Still, nothing can prepare her for the sheer eroticism of his mouth on her. He curls his tongue and she jerks under him, keening low in her throat. He drags the flat of his tongue over her clit and her hand finds his hair, burying in and yanking and _not caring_ if she hurts him.

Newt groans in his chest and buries his face deeper, the harsh rasp of his stubble a delicious counterpoint to his mouth finding all her sensitive spots, and suddenly Tina is right there on the edge. Acting purely on animal instinct, she lifts her hips and presses into him, desperate for contact. He responds by sliding two fingers into her and wrapping his lips around her clit, and she's abruptly there, crying out in short, sharp bursts as her orgasm swells and overtakes her.

She comes down to him lapping at her, slow and lazy to allow her sensitive nerves to settle. He waits until her breathing returns to normal before pressing a kiss to her damp curls, grinning up at her. His eyes are dark, pupils blown out and face flushed, entirely delighted by her reaction to him. Tina reaches out to stroke his cheek before pulling him close.

She's relaxed and shaky with her release, but she can see him throbbing against his thigh, deeply red and glistening. Tina refuses to allow him to suffer so she takes him in hand, intent upon pleasing him before she allows herself to rest; she briefly debates using her mouth on him but finds that she can't bring herself to take that step. Newt's always been the bolder one of their relationship, and he's happy to allow her to move at her own pace.

Newt watches her face intently the entire time she works him, and she can see by the way his eyes flit over her, lingering at the dark thatch beneath her navel, that his thoughts are on something other than her hands. She's not ready for that step though, so Tina pulls out every trick she's learned to drive him to the brink. She works him expertly and it's only a matter of minutes before he's spilling over her hands, choking on her name.

Tina cleans them both with his handkerchief before she curls into his chest. He pulls her close and murmurs into her hair. When he kisses her, she can taste herself on him, and it isn't unpleasant.

"We _are_ doing that again," she decides, and his warm laughter follows her into sleep.

* * *

June again, and hot.

Storm clouds build on the horizon as Tina stands on the fire escape, hoping to catch a cool breeze and wilting in the humidity. Even in her lightest skirt and blouse combination, even foregoing her stockings and garters and corselet, Tina is uncomfortably hot as the sun sets behind the buildings. The ice in her drink helps; the cooling charm Newt refreshes occasionally helps more.

Her Newt is sprawled on the iron next to her, sweat darkening the wrists and collar of his shirt. He's long since given up on any semblance of propriety in favor of comfort, and as the clouds swell and darken overhead, a cool breeze stirs up and the first drops of rain fall, opaquing his shirt. Newt tilts his head back and just _breathes_.

Tina throws her arms wide to welcome the onslaught, and Newt climbs to stand beside her. Her head is tipped back when she feels him enter her space, and he kisses her with a firm insistence he rarely shows. He seems to channel the building storm, pulling it from the air around them, directing the energy through his lips and pouring it into her, until they are both breathless and dizzy.

He breaks off the kiss to pant against her mouth, and his eyes flick over her shoulder, lightening-quick. The question is obvious, and Tina trills happily before grabbing his shoulders to haul him into the apartment. They slip on the windowsill and stumble over the floor. Their wet clothes stick to their skin but eventually, they manage to trip their way to Tina's bedroom, with it's larger bed, and tumble into it.

The first rumble of thunder sounds as Newt arranges her against the pillows, hair a dark halo around her head. She smiles and drags her hands up her sides temptingly, willing him to touch. He rocks back on his haunches instead, palming her foot before smoothing over her calf, her knee, and her thighs. He presses the length of his body against her and swallows the resulting exhale with a heated kiss. Then he moves to make it deeper, sucking her bottom lip and laving it with his tongue.

Her nipples are hard and cold against his chest as he ravishes her, kissing her until their mouths are swollen and they struggle for breath. Newt moves over to nip at her ears as Tina digs her nails into his slick shoulders, moving invitingly beneath him. He shifts to suck a nipple into his mouth and she bucks, her pointed heels digging into his back when she wraps her legs around him.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, but there's no heat in it. His hand moves between them to stroke her core, finding her slick and ready. She arches her back to give him better access, breasts thrust into the air enticingly, and he nips at her while his fingers roll her clit. Tina wriggles her hand between their bodies to grasp him, and he groans thickly, dropping his head to pant into the swell of her breast.

Their hands work in tandem and they rock together for a few moments, while the storm builds outside. One particularly lusty clap of thunder makes Tina jerk against him, and she moans when they brush together intimately. Their hands rest together as they brush and touch and squeeze, and Tina swallows and swallows before finding the nerve to speak.

"Do you want to...you know?" Tina doesn't recognize the sound of her own voice, but she rolls her hips against him, watching Newt's expression grow hazy with want. He drops his head to stare between them before meeting her eyes, lower lip caught in his teeth. He takes a few deliberate deep breaths before responding, exhaling steadily through his nose.

"Nothing would make me happier," he murmurs, shifting closer to pull her up, crushing her against him so he can kiss her properly. He does a thorough job of it, and they are breathless when they separate. Newt probes her face intently before drawing back a few inches, as serious as she's ever seen him. "You've done this before, Tina?"

Tina swallows down sudden nerves while lowering her head, unable to meet his eyes. "I meant it when I said I hadn't done many things," she admits, hating the jig of nerves she can hear in her voice. A calloused finger lifts her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He's smiling softly, eyes luminous in the low light.

"This shouldn't hurt," he breathes, and his lips ghost over hers as he shifts. He waits until she nods before continuing. "You may feel uncomfortable but I _swear_ I will stop immediately if you want me to, if you don't like it or if it is unpleasant. You need only say the word, Tina."

She breathes her assent and he peppers her cheek with small kisses as he shifts them, aligning their hips and guiding her leg around his waist, pressing the other into the mattress. His hand goes to her sex and he pinches and rolls her clit until she gasps, tensing and straining beneath him. He sinks two fingers in, scissoring them to stretch her until she hisses and bucks. His thumb finds her clit and he works her until her nails dig in, the impatient roll of her hips testing the limits of their patience.

Thunder crashes close enough to rattle the windows, but neither notices as he aligns their profiles. He breathes deeply when he guides himself to her entrance, butting against where she wants him most but holding steady. He waits until her breathing has calmed before allowing himself to sink in, just enough to breach her outer barriers. Trembling deeply, feeling it in her very bones, Newt breathes an apology against her mouth before snapping his hips forward, sharp enough to join them in one decisive plunge.

Tina's eyes go very wide beneath him, but she shows no outward signs of pain. Instead, she lifts her head to kiss him deeply, and that movement shifts them enough to send sparks flitting her vision. She is certain she should be feeling discomfort—she is tighter than they could have imagined, gripping him almost painfully, and he is slotted within her entirely. He kisses her and runs his hands over her skin until she releases a deep sigh, relaxing in increments. When Tina begins to shift impatiently, when she mewls and arches under him, Newt seems to gather his resolve and _moves_.

Feeling him sinking into her is like dipping into some exotic oil, and she watches his face carefully as he draws himself out and pushes back in. Tina's eyes widen and she sucks in a sudden breath when he rolls against her, before her eyes drift closed and she relaxes. She can sense him smiling unabashedly when she moans, long and low and beautiful, a perfect counterpoint to the storm raging outside. Her left-hand finds his hair, her right-hand curling into the sheets as he surges against her. His smile softens into something else entirely when she opens her eyes to claim his mouth, drinking in his cries and releasing them in blissful gasps.

"You all right?" he manages sometime after they fall into a steady rhythm, and she kisses him deeply enough to grind their teeth together in lieu of answering. The smile never quite leaves his face as she moves beneath him—sometimes gasping, sometimes crying out his name, occasionally pleading with the air. Tina feels herself tighten around him as a tremor works through her body, so he shifts to brush his fingers over her clit, feather-light touches intended to spur on her release.

Tina makes a throaty noise as she tightens around him, and Newt gulps when she realizes he's dangerously close to the cusp. Tina makes a bereft sound when he slows, hoping to stave off the inevitable. Newt bares his teeth and as she thinks desperately of something else, anything, but it's no use. His orgasm blindsides them, making him cry out and shudder against her, and he closes his eyes in mingled bliss and shame.

When he comes back to himself, Tina's eyes are wide and she's looking at him frantically. "So sorry," he manages to gasp, wincing when he withdraws from her. Moving quickly, he worms down her body until he's nestled between her legs, sharp breaths moving her curls. Newt buries his face into the juncture of her thighs and tastes himself in her until she comes, body bow-tight and keening beneath him. Broad, flat swipes of his tongue ease her through her release until she jerks away, panting, and he rests his head on her leg to allow them both to regain their breath.

Tina eventually hauls him up and over her, dropping kisses onto his hair and stroking his sweaty back. Newt shifts until he's on his side, pulling her close. Tina faces him while pushing an errant curl off his forehead.

"That was better than I could ever have hoped for," he says, and his voice is so sweet and _honest_ that Tina feels her eyes prickle. Thunder rumbles distantly when he kisses her, tender and slow. She breaks their kiss to peck his forehead and then she turns away, leaving the bed to cross the room. Newt rolls onto his stomach and tucks his head into his arms, watching the sway of her hips.

She cleans herself with a towel before dabbing him gently. Then she returns to bed and he wraps his arms around her, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"Looks like the storm has passed," he mutters, and she nods and casts her eyes toward the window.

"Seems the heat has come down, too," she responds with a yawn, eyes drifting shut.

"Oh good," he mumbles, and his voice is thick. She hums thoughtless agreement in her throat, but he doesn't hear because he's fallen asleep. Exhausted, sweaty and bemused, Tina lays in the new coolness as the last of the storm burns itself out, listening to Newt's steady breathing, and wondering just how sore she'll be tomorrow.

"It was worth it," she decides in a whisper, kissing his sleeping head. He smiles faintly in his slumber, and Tina closes her eyes.


End file.
